This year seems to pose more challenges than any year in recent memory. Sure, every year carries tragedies, horrors, and unwelcome interruptions to the status quo, but 2020 seems to have hit the bad news quota for the year by April. And it’s still going strong.
It came to pass:
A simple phrase
So full of hope.
The seasons change.
What now is wrong
Will be made right.
Like flow’rs and grass
Are fearful days
And daunting slopes.
Think it not strange
When night seems long.
Soon comes the light.
Photo by Dawid Zawiła on Unsplash
Be still, and still be creature.
He still knows ev’ry feature of your soul.
Time is a trying teacher,
But tender is the one still in control.
Photo by John Mark Arnold on Unsplash
“I don’t have peace” may be four of the most frustrating, painful, and beautiful words you can say in the context of discerning God’s will for your life.
When roads diverge, how are we then to choose
The good, acceptable, and perfect way?
We guess what we might gain, what we might lose,
But which is better cannot ever say.
We walk by faith. Indeed. But does that mean
That we distrust our wisdom and our eyes?
Should we step forth in spite of what we see,
Ignoring earth whilst looking to the skies?
Or, in our ignorance, would it be best
To stop, be still, and know that you are God?
To proceed not with hastiness but rest?
To trust you to make straight the roads we trod?
LORD, in our walking, let our focus be
Not as much on our paths as upon thee.
Photo by Tamara Menzi on Unsplash
Wait for him, my soul,
Overwhelmed though you may be.
Trust him when you cannot see.
He is in control.
This will play a role.
Though you long to fight or flee,
Still your heart and bend your knee.
He will make you whole.
Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash
I recently had a bad day, and I don’t know why.
For what do I wait when I wait?
Do I lack the strength to complete
The journey before me? Does fate
Require more merit? Oh, this heat
Makes me restless. How long must I
Stay, unmoving as the process
Purifies me of worldly dye?
How long, O Lord? For I confess
I long to run. This surgery
May mend, but how it hurts me so!
I wonder, would you murder me
To purge the sin which lives below?
(Perhaps tis so.)
When can I go? When will this end,
This sanctification, this flame?
You who eternally transcend
My thoughts and ways, your holy name
Is both my hope and bane. I break
Before your unrelenting hand
Which works to my foundations shake
Until I trust in your command.
So have your way in me, I pray.
Though I may never comprehend
Your purpose, let me near you stay,
O God, the absolute, my end.
Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash